New Orleans beauty

I was lucky enough get a break from the house-showing last week to hop on a plane to New Orleans--it was the first time in 20 years. I remembered the flowers and plants from the first time I went. Dripping baskets on intricate wrought iron railings were filled with over-grown begonias, wave petunias and spiky foxtail ferns. I was so inspired that I started my own window boxes when I returned home. Thankfully those same planters are just as breath-taking, but on this trip, I had the chance to discover another kind of cascading beauty: Spanish mosses, wisteria and Mardi Gras beads. Perhaps a seemingly odd combination, unless you're acquainted with the "Big Easy" first hand.


If you think about the city of New Orleans, you may immediately reminisce about hurricane Katrina. It's only been five years since a town so full of life was drowned out by a violent leaking lake and torrents of wind. The unhealed wounds are still evident if you know where to look; daunting red spray-painted circles on quaint French Quarter Victorians are a reminder that too many lives will never be back. (Please note: I did not take pictures of things that brought back bad memories, instead I focused on the lush growth and textural background of a city in repair and renewal).


You can go for blocks and see a 'new' city in tact but make a random turn and you'll sense something is missing. In between neat rows of restored buildings and homes lie barren fields-- the tree-less gardens leave huge gaps for those who cherished the roots of a city that bloomed year round. That said, there is new growth, but it's young and small... it will take years to catch up to the massive green that used to cover these surrounding neighborhoods.


If you jump over to the garden district, you'll find the growth in tact; the curly mosses that drape off of the magnificent Southern Live Oaks in Audubon Park are nothing less than spectacular and sultry. People who live there are mostly oblivious to these ethereal epiphytes, while I on the other hand, lingered under at least a dozen trees until I made my way down Magazine St. Adjacent to the mosses, sit miniature wood ferns that line lichen covered limbs from trunk to tip. While they may seem alien in appearance, it's common to have epiphytes living harmoniously next to each other on such old trees-- a reminder that good neighbors come in all types.


Later, on a trip back from the Alabama coast, I came across the most spectacular wisterias. Although they were trespassing and girdling innocent woodland trees, their neglected beauty couldn't be denied.


Dripping clusters of fragrance and amethyst caught my eye so many times from the road, I had to stop and experience them in person. I stood quietly underneath thousands of purple petals thinking this should be Louisiana's state flower (it's not...the magnolia is). A flower that becomes the living definition of decadence and intoxication can only represent one city... New Orleans.


Let the good times... fall from trees? The wildness of this city is better found in parades than in petals. As I meandered further down Magazine St.,(that's what you do here, walking fast is a tell-tale sign of foreign blood), I was focusing on what was blooming, but was side-tracked by what was hanging. Beads in every color popped up, or rather hung down from limbs, lines and buildings. Surprise gave way to childlike fascination, and I started a game of how many strands could I count per block.


There were too many to count, but I never stopped marveling at the sight of a colorful plastic necklace.


At the end of my trip, I realized how much the spirit of New Orleans had been depleted, but positive energy is filling back up and unexpected beauty is returning. All you have to do is look up at the trees; texture and life cascades and wraps itself around its home once again, and its seductive nature keeps you wanting more.


ALL PHOTOS BY THE FLOWER SPY.